


the matter of the name

by riverbed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Affection, Crying, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Teasing, carly rae jepsen - EMOTION tbh, this is really shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbed/pseuds/riverbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tells himself it’s wrong, that it’s dark and forbidden, but predictably, while lying awake at night, his mind starts racing, overthinking it. The scenario plays out over and over again in his head, and it warps and mangles until eventually it ends flipped, it ends with Alexander on his back, sprawled out over the desk, sweat slicked to his face and crying out <i>Papa, papa.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	the matter of the name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jumpyjamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpyjamie/gifts).



> jumpyjamie wanted some lams daddy kink and i did... what i could. it's happy porn but it's shaded by self-doubt and insecurity and weird feelings. so warnings for that, obviously. alexander isn't totally okay with having this Thing, and it's not centrally focused on.
> 
> what i'm trying to say is that i turned this into an excuse to write super self-indulgent cute emotionally close sex and peppered some dirty talk into it.
> 
> whoop.

Lafayette starts it.

Lafayette instigates most things.

Alexander’s trailing his hand up the back of his thigh where it’s exposed to let his ankle rest on Alex’s shoulder. Alex’s hips are rocking at an increasingly fevered pace when he says it. “Papa,” Lafayette breathes, and it’s barely above a whisper but Alexander hears it. His hips still immediately, and he looks down at Lafayette, who trains his big eyes on him like an accusation.

“What the fuck, Lafayette,” Alexander huffs, disbelieving. His hand is still curled around Lafayette’s hip, the other man’s leg still bent up to accommodate him. It’s like Alexander’s frozen; he had no intention of stopping, it just happened on its own. He blinks down at Lafayette and waits for an explanation. Lafayette blinks back.

“Are you going to _move,_ Alexander?” Lafayette purrs. He flutters his eyelashes, and Alexander shakes it off. Keeps moving. Lafayette goes right back to moaning and babbling, and Alexander finds it’s pretty easy to keep his rhythm after he finds it again.

Still, he can’t shake it after. He has to avoid Lafayette for a few days to get some perspective. He tells himself it’s wrong, that it’s dark and forbidden, but predictably, while lying awake at night, his mind starts racing, overthinking it. The scenario plays out over and over again in his head, and it warps and mangles until eventually it ends flipped, it ends with Alexander on his back, sprawled out over the desk, sweat slicked to his face and crying out _Papa, papa._ He jolts and spills hot and guilty over his own hand, gasping to keep himself quiet.

*

John rides back into camp on a Sunday afternoon and Alexander spends the rest of it following him around like a puppy until he can finally back him up against a hidden-away tree and lean up to nip along his jaw. “Missed you,” he mutters against Laurens’ throat, pressing himself close to feel his warmth.

John’s face turns up in an affectionate smile and he pats Alexander’s flank, traces circles there with his thumb. “Missed you too, Ham,” he says, comrade-like, casual. Alexander mewls and daringly bites at the spot just above his collarbone that he knows takes Laurens down in an instant. “Okay, okay,” Laurens concedes a bit breathlessly. “I _missed you,_ my dear.”

Hamilton grins up at him. John leans down and takes his earlobe between his lips, barely grazes teeth. “My father was just as much an arrogant prick as I remember him,” he groans finally, slumping down against Alexander. “No more vacations home. I swear they drain all the energy from me.”

“No need. Stay with me. I have plenty of energy for the both of us,” Hamilton says, and wraps his arms around John. He lays his head on his chest. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs. John responds by running his hand through Alexander’s hair.

*

John wrestles him to burn off some frustration, and Alexander holds his own only because John is letting him. It’s routine; it takes the edge off, even for Alexander, who trusts John so implicitly that even the bruises on his side from being grabbed too hard don’t phase him. John always holds back with that one little piece of him that gives him the upper hand, the strength he could lord over him if he wanted to; he always controls himself where it counts with Alexander. He seems to think of him as fragile. Alexander doesn’t like violence, he doesn’t like pain, but he likes John and John needs this, so he gives it to him.

Alexander manages through a feat of adrenaline to straddle him, leaning back on his thighs and smiling smugly down. John’s own grin is dark and mischievous, full of promise. He cants his hips and throws Alexander off balance, just a little bit, jostles him before he gets his bearings and resettles his weight. He uses John’s chest for balance, palms flat on the cotton of his undershirt.

“So,” he says, conversationally, even as Alex is panting, “you step out on me while I was gone?”

Alexander giggles, averts his eyes as if he’s being coy. It’d probably be damn convincing if John didn’t know exactly how shy he’s not. “Lafayette took good care of me,” he admits. John drops his arm from Alexander’s waist to smack him on the hip. Hamilton yelps, but it doesn’t unseat him. He growls and leans down to mouth at John’s neck, worrying a couple bruises into the skin with his teeth.

“You’re such a whore, Alexander,” John tuts, good-humored, even as he tilts his head back to grant him more access. Alexander hums his agreement and licks a long stripe up John’s cheek. John huffs indignantly and wipes the saliva away even as he nuzzles into Alexander’s hair, blows a raspberry against the sensitive spot behind his ear. Alexander squeals and turns his face further in, getting a faceful of John’s curls. He mouths at them happily and it’s sort of gross but he’s got John again, John’s body John’s voice John’s eyes. He wants all of him. John’s freckles, John’s hair. John’s smile and his cock and his breath, Alexander wants all of it.

John’s hands trail zigzags down his back, thumbs in his waistband but then out again, and then John’s hands are on his ass, not squeezing, just resting. It’s like a claim he’s laying quietly on Alexander’s body, and Hamilton shivers a little. John tosses his hair back and lets the quiet be for a moment before he asks: “How’d he take care of you?”

Alexander lets out a breath, long and slow. Then he sits up, eyes John like a fine indulgence, tracing his cheekbone with his fingertips. “He worshipped me,” he tells him, and John tilts his head back, eyes sliding half-closed as Alexander’s hand trails lower, over his neck. He undoes the top three buttons of John’s shirt, feels the heat of his skin underneath. John lets him go slow; John is always so patient, only for him.

“He let me take from him and let me break him open, spilled himself all over for me.” Alexander doesn’t try to edit himself; he’s missed this so much, and he’s not feeling particularly hesitant. He wants John strung out on his touch, wants to feel the strength in him go to pieces. He leans back down to John’s ear. “He’s so good for me, John, he lets me have whatever I want.”

John chuckles, kisses Alex’s forehead. “You’re spoiled.”

Alexander hums in assent again. He finishes getting John’s shirt open, studies the rich tan of his skin. His freckles in the summer, they’ll be the death of him. He kisses the scatter of them that flares out from the center of his chest like stars, quick pecks of his lips until he gets to a nipple and runs his tongue over it. John moans soft, cards his fingers through Alexander’s hair. “God, I’ve missed your touch,” he says. “You feel so good on me like this.”

“Mm-mm,” Alexander says. He’s got something in him, dangerous, and bubbling just below the surface. “Tell me how spoiled I am again.”

He feels the heat of John’s eyes on him even though he’s not looking. When he says it, it’s kind of like a question. “You’re… you’re spoiled, Alexander.”

Not perfect, but he’ll mold it into what he wants. “Now tell me that I don’t deserve it,” he says, and he looks up at John now to test his reaction. John goes a bit pale. He swallows. “I don’t know if you deserve it, Alexander,” he says. He lets Alexander sit up again and reaches up to wrap his fingers round his wrists, and he stares up at him, like he has to make himself believe he’s there.

He seems to gain some confidence as he talks, though, as he watches how Alex is responding. “You seduce our friend while I’m away, and when I come back you expect me to want you?” Alexander groans, tips his head back and rolls his hips down against John’s abdomen where he sits. His ass is working against John’s groin, and he can feel his length pressing into the flesh through their breeches. John watches Alexander with wide eyes. His words are breaths, now, gusts of shallow air puffing from him: “Dirty little thing. Bad thing.” Alexander closes his eyes, uses the plane of John’s strong body for leverage and ruts against him, letting his voice lilt through his ears. “If you want Lafayette so bad, maybe I should get him here, Alexander. Would you like that? You want him here? I’ll watch him fuck you, Alex, I’ll watch him get you all fucked out.”

Alexander wrenches his eyes open. John’s own words have gone to his head; he’s panting, cheeks flushed, eyes black. Alexander can only moan in response, and John unclasps a hand from his wrist, reaches up to start working on Alexander’s shirt. “You brat. I can’t even leave you alone for a fortnight without you tramping your way around this camp.” His fingers are colder than Alexander expects when he touches his bare chest. He runs them down with the nails against the skin, scratching lightly in a trail over his stomach. He gets to his breeches again, plays with the ties at the front. “What do you want, Alexander?” he says quietly.

Alex considers it. He rolls his neck, takes in a deep breath. John just watches him and tugs noncommittally on the laces. “Just you,” Hamilton finally says, catching the way John’s eyes grow impossibly darker. He lets it hang in the air; he doesn’t feel like he needs to say anything else.

John keeps his gaze leveled at him while he pulls more forcefully at the ties on his pants, and Alexander holds it. He bucks into his hand a couple times without meaning to, at the jolt of friction when John’s fingers brush the head through the fabric; John presses his lips into a straight line like a warning. Alexander’s body shakes as he tries to wait. When John finally frees his waiting cock, it’s like a revelation.

John’s fingers are light on him, not even wrapped around his shaft, just trailing softly, as if he’s mapping it out. Alexander tries to hold still but there’s another instance of his loss of control, and John draws his hand away completely, holding it out above his shoulder and tilting his head at Alex. He manages to look very disappointed. Alex whimpers, furrows his brow. “You be good,” John warns, and he swats at Alexander’s hip once more for emphasis before he touches him again.

“Lean back, baby,” John tells him eventually, apparently having had enough of watching him sit stock straight and take the teasing. Alexander sighs and collapses backward onto John’s waiting thighs, resting his head on his knee. He lets himself shiver and jerk as John messes with him; he’s alternating between pushing his cock up against his stomach and running his palm along the underside, intense and heavy, and tapping the pads of his fingers on the head. Alexander floats. John’s quiet, probably focusing, but either way he’s letting Alex have this, have the mental space he needs for the depths of desire. Alex only needs a little to get going, and John knows; it’s one of the things he appreciates never having had to tell him. John had known instantly when Alexander had been overwhelmed, the bad kind of overwhelmed, the kind that makes him retreat into himself and fly off too far.

Nobody else gets this from him - nobody else gets Alexander unguarded, completely bare in spirit. Only John.

John knows just how to ground him, how to reassure him with a look. He knows how to draw him open and set fire to his skin with a touch and he knows how to make Hamilton calm down when he needs it most. He knows when he’s had too much to drink and when he needs another, he can read his mood as soon as he walks into a room. John Laurens with his graceful strength and gorgeous grin and practiced observation can render Alexander Hamilton and his nervous hopping and his big mouth and his honed wording absolutely useless, and Hamilton welcomes the gift.

Alexander’s gotten past the point of trying to track John’s patterns; he’s running both hands all over him now, up his torso and his arms and edging his breeches down his hips to expose more of him as he goes. His cock is curled up high to his belly, dripping needily onto itself with gravity. John occasionally swipes his thumb through it and slicks him down with it, rough and dirty, sending shocks through Alexander as he gasps through it for breath.

John tips him back, lets him fall to the floor, and he goes, and John rocks up and looms over him, resting on one of his elbows. “Pretty,” he praises, running a hand over Alexander’s belly button, “no wonder Lafayette can’t get enough of you.”

Alexander huffs a laugh, feels himself blush hot. “He can’t keep his hands off me,” he affirms, and John scoffs.

“I’m gonna have to fight him for your honor,” John says, and he kisses him, sweet and messy. Alexander loses his breath and he’s just fine with that, thank you very much, because kissing John Laurens is much more important than any speech he’ll ever make. John’s just resting his hand against his core, his weight a steady presence. Finally, he pulls away, looks down at Alexander and really considers him for a moment before he clicks his tongue and adjusts so he can shimmy down Alex’s body and sink down onto his cock.

He moans the moment he fits him in to the base - John is so _good,_ Alexander thinks, so patient for him and only his endless well of patience would allow him to do this. He swirls his tongue around the head, getting him good and wet, and then goes back down, works his throat a little around him, unbelievably tight. Alexander spreads his legs apart, restricted as they are by his clothing; he tries not to be impatient, tries not to buck his hips up. “Yes,” he pants, twining his fingers in John’s soft hair; “Yes, John, yes.”

John works him to orgasm like this, swallows around him even as he spills, and his body goes slack, his cheek rolling to press against the cool floor. He’s still for a moment, tries to will away the dizziness. John’s still at his groin, lazily lapping up excess fluid that dripped from his mouth onto Alexander’s belly. 

“F-fuck,” Alexander shoves out, opening and closing his fist. “Fuck.” He finds John’s hair with his flexing hand, pulls him up for an intense kiss, languid and slow and tasting of his own spend. He rolls his tongue into John’s mouth and John smiles as he catches it on his own. When they pull away Alexander’s got his hand on the small of John’s back and he lowers it to his ass, squeezing the firm muscle there as he watches his eyes. “You want more, pet?” John asks, smirking, stroking Alexander’s bare side.

“Yes, Papa,” Alexander says before he can stop himself. John’s lips part in surprise, but he absorbs it, seems to roll it around in his mouth to decide. He swallows, finally, and says very quietly to Alexander: “You gonna be good for me, love?”

Hamilton gasps, taking in as much air as he can. He can’t look at John as he answers; he has to squeeze his eyes shut, has to remove himself from it in some way. Overwhelmed, but the good kind, now, the kind that makes him want to stretch out like a cat and be ripe and open. _“Yes,”_ he promises, and means it, down inside him the deepest anything has ever been felt.

John’s vacated the space beside him in favor of the gap between his thighs, and he pulls Alexander’s legs up, yanks his breeches off. Alexander’s limbs are heavy and sated, his body limp. John seems to like this just fine; he settles Alex’s legs far apart from each other, props one calf up on his own back as he lies down in front of him. “Let me take care of you,” he demands, stroking Hamilton’s thigh. Alex swallows hard again and gives a quick nod, tilting his head back to rest against the floor and swimming out for the headspace he’d had before when John was teasing his cock.

He doesn’t find it. In the darkness there’s only the burning heat of John’s tongue against him, inside him, John’s fingers where they press into the flesh of his thighs, and the ache isn’t there, all the dull want replaced by ferocious, sharp, searing need. John opens him up in no time, but he keeps going, anyway, making little hums of approval and smacking his lips. Alexander listens, and before long he’s babbling, _Please Papa yes I’ll be good please yes just like that_ and John taps his fingers on the back of his leg like he’s going for a spanking but he’s too enthralled by the taste of Alexander’s ass to really commit to it, so Alexander lets his body continue to unwind.

Laurens looks debauched when he comes up for a breath, lips swollen and hair mussed. He’s the most beautiful creature on earth, and Alexander tells him so. John smiles, sweet and soft. The parts of him reserved just for Hamilton.

John pulls himself up, yanks Alexander’s hips to his. Alexander sits up when John goads him, gets on his own knees and settles back into John’s lap, trusting him to support his weight. John bores down, low and wide on his knees.

“It seems,” he says, clearing his throat and wrapping his arms about Alexander’s slim waist, “my little whore hasn’t had her fill yet.” Alexander giggles, and John nuzzles their noses together affectionately. “You sweet thing,” he muses. “How anyone could abandon you I’ll never understand.”

Alexander looks away, suddenly embarrassed. He feels kind of flayed open, and John strokes his face in immediate apology. Alexander manages a weak smile down at him, and he lets John kiss his face. He knows John doesn’t mean to hit those sore spots, that he simply says it because he’s thinking it, but it doesn’t exactly jive with Alexander’s fantasy - or maybe it does. He thinks about it, considers it. John holds him tightly now and kisses his chin and cheek, and eventually it’s enough that Alexander laughs, tilts his head down to meet John’s lips chastely.

John grinds against him to set that right, and Alexander giggles again, forgetting all about his misgivings. “Why is it that I’m bared for you but you have these on?” he asks John, playing with the fabric of his breeches at the side of his waist.

John snickers. “You’re greedy,” he says plainly, and Alexander swats him on the head. John growls, knocks Alexander over. “Greedy, bossy, demanding,” he says, as he unlaces his own pants. “Gonna have to show you who’s in charge.”

Alexander nods solemnly. “Teach me a lesson, Papa,” he challenges; he can’t resist teasing in this newfound way, this dangerous kind of rich liquid candy he wants to drown in. It makes John’s eyes light with fire, and Alexander wants to be devoured by the flames. John presses them together again, and now he’s bare, and Alexander groans, rocks his hips to get his skin all over John’s.

John lets him rut and when he stops it’s only because John’s deliberately slipped his cock down into the cleft of his ass, and Alex keens and lifts his hips to encourage him. John holds Alexander’s hip tightly, keeping him in place as he enters him. “Where are you going, sweetheart?” he asks when Alexander tries to wiggle at the breach. “Trying to get away from me?”

“No, Papa,” Alexander says, even through his teeth, gritted against the pain. He knows he’ll adjust eventually but it’s rough, a challenge, even with the oil John’s spread on his cock and all over him. He wants to be made to take more in the meantime, wants John to split him open and fill his soul.

John’s working his hand over his cock to distract him and ease the way, and Alex shudders deeply as he starts to fill back out, still oversensitive but eager to let John give him this. “John,” he says, desperate, like a prayer, as John seats himself fully - he can feel it, the full width of John’s hips against him, and the hand on his ankle tightens its grip as John closes his eyes, trying to hold himself back. “O God, Alexander, you’re so tight,” he says, “so _hot_ for me. Am I the only one you lay yourself out like this for?”

And he’s - he is. Alexander has never thought about it before, but he is, he’s the only one who makes sense. He nods frantically, and John tosses his head, getting his hair out of his face. He leans down over Alexander, folding him back, dropping his hands at Alexander’s sides as he starts to rock into him. Alexander opens his mouth but he can’t make any noise, his voice too afraid of what will come out. It feels so perfect, so exquisite, exactly what he wants. A reuniting of bodies and spirits so in tune with one another that it sings like music, and Alexander stares up at John and begs him with his eyes, and then they start to fill and run over and John leans down to kiss him, their noses bumping as he thrusts but neither of them care. John’s huffing out breath against his lips, pressed together so fragile but unwilling to break apart. They’re close together all down their bodies, Alexander’s legs around John’s waist, his knees up under him for leverage, their chests slick against each other with sweat. Alexander holds John’s face to him, his hair wrapped around his fists tight, and it probably hurts and pulls but John doesn’t seem to mind. The angle isn’t perfect but it is, somehow, it doesn’t allow for a lot of movement but John’s grinding directly on the spot inside Alexander that makes him bloom open and he feels impossibly, unbelievably full, his body, his heart. He wants John to ruin him, to keep him here forever on the edge of something revelatory.

“Don’t let go,” Alexander whimpers, and before long he’s chanting it like a hymn, _Don’t let go, John, don’t let go don’t let go don't leave,_ and John whispers at him that he’d never, he could never, and Alexander’s gone, still crying, feeling John’s weight John’s hair John’s skin and he tips over the edge like a miracle happening, swelling his lungs with air so sweet and clean he didn’t know breathing could be like this, this satisfying, this fulfilling. His cock spasms helplessly between them and it’s an afterthought; the thing is full-bodied, bone-deep, and he hasn’t got much left but what he has he gives to John and John takes it all with grace, with love.

He’s broken apart as John hungrily searches out his peak, forceful and demanding but his body takes it happily, all loose and undone. He rests his hand on John’s neck to keep him close, staring into his eyes and hoping they convey what he’s done to him, how thoroughly he’s been opened body and soul.

John collapses into his shoulder and Alex runs his fingers through his hair. They bring each other down with soft kisses and John tickles Alex’s sides, making him gasp with laughter and bat him away. John slips out of him as he rolls over and Alexander wasn’t expecting the loss - his mouth falls open with how strange it feels, how good it would have been to keep John inside him forever. He tells John this as he rolls into his side, cuddling up to him on the floor. They’re sticky all over and his face is wet with tears but they’re perfectly happy to curl up together and forgo moving for the time being.

“I think I owe Lafayette another favor,” John says. Alexander shoves at him, exasperated, and John grins at him after kissing the tip of his nose. “What? For taking such good care of you while I'm away,” John explains, and Hamilton rolls his eyes but he lets John nip at his bottom lip and even moans a little when he licks his way into his mouth.


End file.
